Logan's Outlaw Part 14

"Then we'll run every day. I'll do anything to hear you laugh again." He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.

"Will the nightmares end, Logan?"

He drew a long breath and released it slowly. "I don't know. We can't make them end. We can only reach for each other when they come."

"I love you, Logan Taggert."

He stopped, forcing her to stop, too. He drew her close, holding her only by their joined hands. "You love me?"

"I do."

"I cannot live without you, Sarah."

"Nor I you."

He nodded. "Then we will find a way to live." He wrapped an arm about her waist and continued walking. "We'll have a good life, honey. I will give you joy."

"You already have."

The sky was growing light when they reached the wagon. The horses were restless, needing water and feed. "Why don't you go back to sleep?" Logan suggested. "I will see to the horses. We are not in a hurry to get where we are going."

She shook her head. "I will make us breakfast while you see to the horses. Better keep them away from me." She grinned at him. "I'm hungry enough to eat one of them!"

Logan turned away, locking the sight of her teasing smile away in his heart. He heard again her shocking outburst of laughter when they'd run, the purest of sounds. He longed to hear that sound again, to feel the joy she cast on him and the entire world with her arms opened wide.

He began to whistle. Maybe, just maybe, they would survive her injuries.

The long, cooling hours of dusk were giving away to night. Sarah had washed and put away their supper dishes. Logan had seen to the horses. He was preparing for his evening ritual of bathing, brus.h.i.+ng his teeth, and shaving. She had already washed her face, brushed her teeth, and was in her nightgown, ready for bed when she went to sit on the fold-down table and watch him shave.

He'd hung a mirror off the side of the wagon and had laid out his grooming items on the table. He took his suspender straps off his shoulders and dropped them at his sides, then pulled his s.h.i.+rt free. Realizing she was watching him, he grinned at her. "What are you doing?"

She shrugged. "Watching you."

"Why?"

"I like looking at you. I don't think I've known a man as beautiful as you."

He moistened his toothbrush and dipped it into a tin of tooth powder. "Men aren't beautiful. Girls are," he argued, speaking around a mouthful of toothbrush.

She smiled. Folding her legs in front of her, she wrapped her arms about her s.h.i.+ns and watched him. "Everywhere we've been, the women found you very pretty indeed."

He spit the concoction in his mouth out and rinsed. "I wouldn't know. I was too busy keeping men away from you."

He drew his s.h.i.+rt over his head. Four angry sc.r.a.pes were slashed across his chest. More lesions marked his upper arms. "Logan! Good heavens! Look at you. I did that, didn't I? I thought I was dreaming, but it was real."

He set his jaw as she jumped off the table and turned him to see the scratches. She'd fought the warriors who first captured her, fought them mercilessly, slas.h.i.+ng at them with her nails, her teeth, her feet. There had been too many. They'd simply held her down for each to take his turn. The man she'd scratched so terribly had wanted to just kill her, bash her head in with the flat side of his tomahawk.

She sent a terrified glance to Logan, waiting for his punishment. She'd backed herself against the side of the wagon. She could easily have slipped from his holda"he was not restraining her. He held her chin, his face bent near hers. He was saying something to her, his words low and soothing.

"... I will always protect you. You will never be harmed in my care. Hear me, Sarah. I will always protect you. You will never be harmed in my care."

She blinked. He was repeating himself, repeating his vow, murmuring it so that it slipped into her soul, calming the fear, doing battle with her memories. He was Logan. He would not harm her. She had hurt him, but he would never hurt her.

"I'm sorry."

His eyes were unblinking, his gaze fierce. "You were afraid. You did not know what you did."

"I didn't want to hurt you."

He smiled, achingly patient, endlessly calm. "You haven't hurt me. These are just scratches."

"I will get the salve Laughs-Like-Water gave us."

He nodded. "I'll wash first, then you can put it on."

In the wagon, Sarah sank down onto one of the benches, her arms wrapped about her waist as she took a moment to compose herself. She'd lashed out blindly last night, intending to harm, lost in a memory, a thing no more real than an ephemeral thought. What had been was done. It was a situation that no longer existed, one that would never exist again. It had the ability to harm her only through her own mind. She had to be strong. She had to fight her own demons.

When she rejoined Logan, he was halfway through a shave. White foam covered one side of his face. He sc.r.a.ped lines of it off with his straight razor, holding the skin at his neck taut, moving his jaw to give the blade access to his beard. Finished with the shave, he splashed water on his face, then mopped off the extra dots of white with a towel. He cleaned his blade and shaving brush, emptied the water, then put his shaving kit away.

He turned to her. She waited, barely breathing, forcing herself to appear calm. "So, wife, heal me." He set his hands on his hips and grinned down at her. She poured the oil into her palm, savoring the sweet scent that filtered into the air. She rubbed her palms together, warming the oil as she faced him. He had a light feathering of blond hair on his chesta"a chest covered in sculpted muscles that tapered from broad shoulders to a narrow waist. She pressed her palms to his skin, over the red slashes. She drew her hands down the marks, moving lightly, careful not to press very hard against his skin.

"More." Logan bent his head to her, his mouth very near her ear. "Use more lotion."

She poured a bit more into her palm, then lifted her hands against his chest. "I am so sorry, Logan." She looked up at him.

He watched her with a hard, steady regard. His pupils were dilated, darkening his pale eyes. "I forgive you," he whispered.

She filled her palm with more oil and started to work on one of his arms. His arms were thickly muscled, so different from her own. He didn't flinch as she eased the lotion into his skin. It felt strange to be touching a man. She poured another measure of oil and worked on his other arm. The heat of his skin warmed the lotion, deepening the sweet fragrance in the air between them. She took her time with his other arm, in no hurry to move away from him.

When she could no longer pretend to be treating his scratches, she moved her hands over to his stomach. Spreading her fingers, she pushed her hands up through his chest hair, feeling the bulges and hollows of his chest until her palms stopped over his heart. Her gaze moved up, over his collarbone, his neck, his jaw. His bottom lip was fascinating, rounder than his upper lip.

"I want to kiss you, Logan."

"Then kiss me."

"I'm afraid I will be ill."

He grinned. "Maybe you will, maybe you won't. Give it a try. See what happens. I won't kiss you back unless you ask me to."

She looked into his eyes, then reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. Lifting herself onto tiptoes, she pulled his head down to hers and did what she'd been longing to doa"touch her mouth to his. He did not hold her, did not press against her. He kept his mouth closed, moving ever so slightly in response to the pressure she exerted.

She ran her lips along the soft skin of his newly shaved cheek, then pulled back just enough to focus on his eyes. "I think it would be all right for you to kiss me back."

A smile lit his eyes. "Tell me what you want."

"Hold me."

His hands immediately came up to grip her shoulder blades, his arms banding around her, hard, protecting. He bent toward her, waiting for her to take the lead. She kissed him once, twice.

He growled in frustration. "Honey, let me show you how to kiss your man." He turned his head, setting his mouth across hers. He captured her lips in his, pressing and releasing his way around the entire circ.u.mference of her mouth. He opened his mouth. She did as he did, felt his tongue enter her mouth. She reached forward to touch her tongue to his, softness to softness, incredibly intimate. She pressed against him, holding him to her ever more tightly. His hands at her shoulders lifted her as his mouth worked against hers.

She'd never been kissed like this before. It filled her with incredible warmth, heating her from the inside out. She broke the kiss and started it over again; this time she did to him what he'd done to her. He opened himself to her, took what she gave. She sent her tongue into his mouth, searching for his. He met her thrust, pa.s.sed her tongue, entered her mouth. In and out. Over her tongue, under it. Sliding back and forth.

She was melting inside. She could feel his body's responsea"his erection pressed against her belly. This was Logan. Her Logan. He would not harm her, would not laugh at her or shame her. What was between them was between only the two of them. She would not be ravaged in front of others.

He broke the kiss. "I think, wife of mine, that if you don't want nightmares again tonight, we'd best stop with kisses."

She lowered her heels, running her hands down his arms. She flattened her palms against his ribs as she pressed her forehead to his chest and worked on calming her breathing. "Will we run tonight?" she asked after a minute.

"If you like. We can talk all night if you want. We can sleep in each other's arms. We can make love. We can do anything you wish. For the rest of our lives."

She kissed each of the scratches on his chest. "You're a brave man to sleep with me again."

"Honey"a"he lifted her chin so that he could see her facea""your demons aren't ready to give up their hold on you. We aren't out of the woods just yet." He brushed the white-blond hair from her face. "But I see the path out even if you don't. I won't leave you in the woods. Just don't let go of my hand."

She took his hand, leading him up into the wagon. "Let's sleep. Then run again in the night."

"Logan," a sweet voice whispered into his dream. "Wake up. It's time to run." He opened his eyes to find Sarah leaning over him, one hand on his chest. He couldn't see much of her expression in the dark. She was wide awake, but still warm from sleep. He smiled as he ran a hand up her arm. Cupping the back of her nape, he drew her to him.

"Now?" he asked, his mouth against hers.

"Now."

"Did you have a bad dream?"

"No. I just want to run."

"Hand me my moccasins. Get yours on."

They climbed out of the wagon, wearing only their underclothes. The cool night air slipped around them. There was a faint hint of light in the eastern sky. It had to be nearly 4 a.m., Logan thought.

"Which way?" he asked Sarah.

She turned her back to the east and walked backward, grinning at Logan. "Toward the sunrise. We'll be the first to see it this morning." She spun on her heel and took off, settling into a comfortable pace. It was easier to run in just her drawers and camisole. She could feel the wind slip over her skin. Neither of them spoke; they just ran in silence, at one with the land and the air and the world around them.

The pale glow at the far horizon deepened, brightened. Logan looked over at Sarah, amazed at her endurance. When light began to penetrate the dark, he could make out the pink color of her cheeks. She'd tied her hair back, but several silky strands pulled free and blew back from her face.

She slowed down, then stopped. He did the same. They were both breathing heavily, steaming into the air around them. The day would be blazing hot, but the nights were still cold, the chill lingering into the morning.

She set her hands on her hips and faced the slowly brightening horizon. Pastel colors washed over the land, tinting her white cotton undergarments in lavenders and pinks. She was something to see. He couldn't stop staring at her. All the fear was gone from her face as she watched so expectantly for a dawn that was still hours away.

What would he give to have her look at him that way? "We should head back."

She looked at him and nodded, but neither of them turned back to the wagon. Instead, she took a step toward him. His body tightened. Heat pooled in his groin at the intent look on her face. His mind told him to turn away, start walking. Desire held him rooted to the spot. She pressed her palms against his ribs. He sucked in a breath. Their run had brought a sheen of sweat to his skin, which the air was now cooling. Her hands were hot against his skin.

He tried to stay still, tried to know her only by scent and not by touch, not by his mouth, not by his skin. He drew her sweet scent into his lungs, locking it inside him until his lungs screamed for more. She stepped closer. He shut his eyes, hiding from the ache that rose from his heart. She leaned forward. He felt her heat. Her lips pressed against his skin. A whisper only. Like b.u.t.terfly wings. Barely there.

Slowly, slowly, he lifted his hands, afraid to cage her in his grip, afraid she would step away, afraid of how much he needed her. G.o.d, his heart was tearing apart. He dragged the tips of his fingers up her back, over the thin cotton of her camisole. He bent his head over the top of hers, encircling her body with his. Had any man ever loved a woman as he loved Sarah?

Her hands moved in a slow stroke up his chest. His d.i.c.k thickened, growing hard against her belly. There was no way to hide his hunger for her, as close as they stood, wearing as little as they did.

He wished they could stand there forever, tired from their run, waiting for the dawn, safe and happy.

She lifted her face to him. He looked away from the shadows in her eyes. He smoothed the hair from her face. Her skin was impossibly soft, like velvet beneath his fingers. He was vaguely aware of her hands stroking down the length of his sides, over his hips. She moved between their bodies, cupping his heaviness.

He sucked in a breath, his eyes shooting to her face. He'd said she could touch him anywhere, anytime, but this was too soon. She wasn't ready to be intimate. But he couldn't pull back because she was reaching out to him. He couldn't go forward and he couldn't go back, he was stuck on a frozen lake, waiting for the ice to crack beneath them, drowning both of them in the terrible hidden currents of her memories. It was too soon. He was afraid. So G.o.dd.a.m.ned afraid of losing her.

He drew her hands away from his hardening c.o.c.k and lifted both of them to his mouth, baring her palms so that he could kiss the center of her handsa"one, then the other.

"Please. Logan. Let us be together. Now. While I am not afraid. The longer we wait, the more I fear our joining. Let us just get it over with."

"I want to make love to you, Sarah. I don't just want intercourse. I don't want a simple joining. I want you to feel what I feel for you. I am in no hurry."

"Please. You need me. Let me give you ease. Let me do what I can to help you."

He shook his head, aching to accept what she offered. "I am not so selfish that I would take you while you still fear me." He bent forward, burying his face in her neck, hungry to feel her skin against his face, to smell her scent, to taste the salt on her skin.

"Logan, help me to get through this. Make me your wife."

His arms tightened around her. One hand slipped under her long braid, cupping the back of her head. He kissed his way up the column of her neck to the corner of her jaw. He nuzzled her cheek, finding a path to her lips. He kissed the corner of her mouth.

There were too many shadows standing between them. Perhaps she was right in wanting their first coupling behind them, so that she would know there was nothing to fear and much to enjoy. It was a good plan. Logical. Humbling in the trust she placed in him. But his desire for her was utterly combustible, like a spark catching in a grain silo. His hand shook with the restraint of his will. This first time had to be for her pleasure alone. He would have to be more careful with her than if it was her very first time.

He bent his forehead to hers as his hands moved to her shoulders. He could feel her breath on his mouth, fast and shallow, pumping her fear and excitement over his soul. He drew a deep breath, then released it slowly. Again. Again. He willed her breathing to match his own slower rhythm as his hands slowly eased down her arms to catch her hands.

Pulling them out to their sides, he drew back to look at her, his beautiful wife. She stood before him, washed in the early morning light, ethereal. He wondered if he let go of her hands, would she disappear?

He leaned back as he started walking in a slow circle, pulling her around with him, wanting to spin away the threads of fear that clung to her. He stepped faster, grinning when she sent him a questioning glance. Faster. Her braid swung free. She laughed, like music spilling into the night. He could live on that sound. Around and around they went.

"Stop! I can't take anymore!" she begged. He drew her close, falling to the ground with her on top. The world continued to spin around them. She laughed and buried her face in his throat, gripping a fistful of his hair. He put his nose in her hair and drew a deep breath. He kissed her temple, the corner of her eye, her cheekbone, the soft skin beside her ear.

He drew her up his body, dragging her against his erection. He felt the wave of tension that rippled through her. He moved his legs between hers so that she straddled him. The weight of her body on his c.o.c.k excited him, sending hot blood to his groin. He ached to join their bodies. He moved his c.o.c.k against the cradle of her hips.

She stiffened as she lay against him. Bracing an arm on his chest, she pushed herself up. He lifted his knees, giving her a backrest to lean against. Her eyes were enormous pools of dark worry. He sat up. Cupping her chin, he kissed her closed mouth as his hand came up to cover her breast. She drew a shocked breath. He felt the pull of air against his mouth. His c.o.c.k tightened, rocked against her sensitive core.

He kissed her chin, the s.p.a.ce between her chin and lip, then took her mouth again, twisting his head when she opened to him, hungry to taste her. His tongue found hers, warm and wet. He groaned into her mouth, unable to stop the sound as his body quickened around hers. He broke the kiss, then matched his lips to hers once again. He moved his head in the other direction and took her mouth from a new angle.

Her nipple pebbled against his palm. He cupped both b.r.e.a.s.t.s, letting his fingers play with the hardened peaks. Her fingers on his shoulders gripped and released him as she arched against his hands.

His jaw opened, leading hers to do the same. Their lips barely touching, their tongues danced and played, rising, pus.h.i.+ng, sliding against each other.

He broke the kiss to press his mouth against the corner of her jaw, the soft skin beneath her chin, the side of her throat. His hands shook as he lifted them to the b.u.t.tons of her camisole. When he released the last one, he looked at her as he parted the fabric, baring her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

His gaze dropped to the twin mounds, shockingly luscious on her slim frame. He sucked in a sharp breath. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, the pressure from her thumbs stiffening, warning of her tension.

Taking hold of her waist, he lifted her body toward his mouth. He nuzzled the side of one breast, his beard sc.r.a.ping against her sensitive skin as he pushed against the heavy mound. Her nipple peaked even tighter, aching for his touch. He ignored its thrust toward his face, turning his attentions instead to her other breast, kissing the soft flesh, lifting its weight against his face.

A groan slipped past his mouth as he sucked the softness of her breast. She knelt before him now, bearing her own weight, freeing his hands to take hold of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She watched everything he did, her hands now pulling him closer. He lifted her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, careful not to touch her nipples, knowing she ached for him to do that very thing. His thumb and forefinger tightened around the base of her nipple, pointing it toward his face. Her nostrils flared, her face tightened with antic.i.p.ation. She gasped as his tongue flicked out to stroke her nipple.